From the Ashes
by DaughterofHadesandNyx
Summary: AU What if Gale had volunteered to enter the Games with Katniss? And will they die together, or live alone?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Katniss. The Reaping.

A muffled scream breaks the stillness of the night and I jerk upright automatically, senses going into overdrive searching for the cause of the noise.

It's Prim.

I struggle out of bed and pad over to where Prim, my twelve year old sister lies, screaming into her pillow.

"Shh, shhh," I mumble, stroking her hair, trying to drag her out of whatever twisted nightmare she was in.

"It was me," she sobs. "It was me."

"What was you?" I soothe. I have a nagging suspicion what it is, but I wait for her to tell me.

"They chose me! That T.. T… trinket lady pulled my name out of the ball!" she cries into my shirt as I try to word condolences.

It doesn't work. What can you say- in the end- to a twelve year old girl, who in five to six hours may be walking to her doom with you? True her name is only one in around twelve thousand, but it could happen. Part of me is just trying to convince myself that it's not me either. This year my name will be in the ball twenty seven times. _Twenty seven._

I lie there as Prim slowly quietness, and when she does, it is all I want to do to stay there and bask in the safety of home for a few more hours.

But I can't.

The sun is rising, and if I didn't leave then regardless of this afternoon's fate, we will all go hungry.

I dress quickly, scraping my hair back into a messy braid, shrugging on my father's leather jacket. Five years later and it still smells like him. Musty earth and the clear scent of pine. Worn but sturdy cow hide boots fit snugly around my feet, and then I'm ready.

I slip out of the house silently, creeping past neglected backyards and broken down houses. Nothing in the Seam is luxurious.

As I snuck by, I could see the other signs of life. People stirring behind dusty windows, the shrill cry of a baby in the air.

A smile tugs at my lips as I hear it. There aren't many babies in the Seam. Most don't even survive the first few weeks of pregnancy. There is hardly any water. Hardly any food. And what there is, is barely consumable.

Hence my destination.

District Twelve is divided into two sections. The town- the slightly wealthier part of District Twelve, and the Seam, where I live. It's where the majority of the coal miners live, and money, food and clean water are rare. There's a fence that runs the whole perimeter of District Twelve- useless but to keep the wild animals from beyond out.

I didn't know about the dangerous ones, but the most harm I've ever been in in the woods was when I tripped on a branch and twisted my ankle. The animals that might be able to harm me don't get within a few meters of me before I've put an arrow through their eye and they're meat for me to take back to the Hob and trade.

I slip under the fence- a large hole that my father had found years ago. How this fence was meant to keep anyone or anything out- or _in_, I had no idea. Technically the fence was meant to be charged with 10 000volts of electricity, but seeing as electricity was a non-existent thing in the Seam, the fence was the least of my problems.

"District Twelve." I mumble to myself. "Where you can starve to death in peace."

I plunge into the bush, quickly loosing myself in the green. Of course I'm not lost though, I'd practically lived in these woods after my father died.

I could still remember the day. I was twelve, Prim only seven. We had waved him goodbye before going to school, and halfway through class Peacekeepers had come, asking them in the harsh metallic voices through their face masks- to accompany them to the Justice Building.

I could still remember the clang of the elevator doors, and Prim clinging to me beside me. I could remember others in the lift with me, all waiting for the news.

And then it came.

We had all been presented with medals of Valour- for our father's sacrifice in the mines.

A dull piece of metal with words engraved in it in exchange for a life.

I shook my head violently as I came to a large oak tree. I clambered up a few feet, before reaching an arm up to the crook of a branch meeting the trunk, and pulled out a bow, full quiver and a few hunting knives.

Gale should be here soon judging by the sun in the sky.

Gale.

My best friend. The one person who could somewhat fill the hole that my father left. I could still remember meeting him for the first time. I had been hunting for several hours, but only scored two birds and a small rabbit when I chanced across several hunter's snares, set up ingeniously in a thicket with a string of fat rabbits hanging from it.

They were twitch up snares, complicated ones that I had seen my father build in the past. I had never made any myself. I couldn't comprehend how my father's rough large hands could twist the wire into such amazing and complex shapes.

I had just ran my fingers over the wire, when a voice came from behind me, startling the heck out of me. I had never met anyone outside of the fence, no one. No one would risk the whipping, or even death sentence of wandering outside of the fence. Except us.

"You know, stealing is punishable by death around here." He had said in a cocky, arrogant voice, but there was a hint of mischief and laugher in his eyes, and the slight curve to his stern mouth.

"I wasn't stealing them!" I protested, "I just wanted to see how they worked. Mine never catch anything!" It was true.

Gale stepped out of the shadows, and I realized I had seen him before, in the Justice building. His father killed in the same explosion in the mines that took mine. I knew him slightly- seen him a school- he was the one the girls had all gone misty eyed over. I remembered his slightly shocked and hollow expression as the news came. News that he was now the supporting male in his family of two younger brothers and sister.

His eyes relaxed slightly, but it was obvious he still didn't trust me. I didn't trust him either though, so we were square.

"What's your name?" quick and abrupt.

"Katniss." I whisper, my voice barely louder than a squeak.

"Well Catnip, what are you doing out here?"

"It's _Katniss_," I emphasize, slightly annoyed that it wasn't obvious. "I'm hunting. Same as you."

Gale ran his eyes up and down me, but oddly enough it was like he was sizing me up, not mentally undressing me like so many other repulsive boys I knew did. "Well Katniss- how do you hunt?"

Suddenly feeling defensive, I shoved my bow under his nose. It was my father's bow, one of the four that he had hidden in the woods for us to use on our hunting trips so long ago. "With my bow. Or knives." I flashed them at him, glinting wickedly in the soft light that filtered down from the trees.

He was silent for a long while before suddenly his face broke into a broad smile. "What do you say we arrange a trade?"

"What kind of trade?"

He smiled, a gesture I didn't return until weeks later, and from then on I had a friend.

At first it was only knowledge. He taught me how to set snares that caught a whole string of plump mammals every day while I taught him how to shoot, to bring down bigger game.

We arranged trading lists, hours of when it was safe to enter the woods, helping each other in the leafy kingdom of pine, I even gave him one of my precious bows after a while, until eventually we became a team. Hunting together, sharing our prey, making sure both of our families were fed, working seamlessly as a whole.

Gale became my comfort, my refuge in the woods, the only safe place in my life.

"Catnip!" The call jerks me back to reality- harsh as it is.

Gale emerges from the trees, just like he did all those years ago. He gives me a brief hug before grabbing his bow, and we set off into the woods.

As far as I know, some of the riskier ones in the Seam pick apples from the trees near the fence, but no one enters the woods as far as me and Gale do. Stories of wolves, bears and mutations keep everyone at bay.

Except us.

Muttations were genetically mutated beings that the Capitol had created seventy four years ago when the previously thirteen districts revolted against the Capitol. They were unleashed into the surrounding districts during the fighting, and thousands died before the realized what the creatures were.

Eventually the thirteen districts were subdued, and District Thirteen was bombed, and wiped off the map. Sometimes at school- or on the screens in the town square- they showed us the still-smouldering remains of District Thirteen.

Gale and I set off into the trees, stalking a deer. Usually we wouldn't go after such big game, but this is reaping day- and one of us might be chosen. If one of us were to go- then it was the unspoken truth that the other would have to support both of our families.

We don't find the deer, but we find four rabbits from yesterday's snare, and we shoot two squirrels and some pigeons. A wild dog that tries to attack us joins the pile.

It's around seven now, judging by the sun, and soon we're going to have to lug all the animals back to the Seam- to the Hob- the sort of black-market type place, where anything is game, and you can get the best trades.

I flop back on the crest of a hill near the edge of the trees- ready to scurry back in the safety of the trees if one of the Capitol's hovercraft should fly overhead- and try to relax.

Reaping day.

Reaping day.

Gale is silent beside me too- a almost unheard of thing- and I know he is thinking about the same.

Gale slowly takes out a folded leaf, inside is a small mountain of slightly bruised blueberries, he begins sorting through them. I recognized them as the few he had picked this morning. I assumed he was saving them for Posy- his little sister loved them.

"We could do it you know."

His voice cuts through the tense silence, and I blink at him confused.

"Run away. Me and you, we could make it." Gale gestures at the forest, stretching out seemingly forever. A sudden image of me and Gale, running, hunting- maybe even living in peace away from here. Away from the dictatorial Capitol, the starving and desolate Seam, the wretched and hated _Hunger Games_, maybe living out our lives _free_.

The sudden pull of the image almost sweeps me away in its intensity. I _want_ that life. Then suddenly it wavers, and I see me and my family, Gale and his, tripping through the bush, serving for a week, maybe more at most, before being caught by the Capitol, torn apart from random Muttations, or dying of starvation by too many mouths to feed.

"We wouldn't be able to. Prim in the woods?" I tried to joke, swallowing down the foul taste in my mouth.

Gale's expression darkens slightly, then slips back into its usual sunny smile. "Or Posy?" he grins.

Suddenly, he selects a large plump berry, ripe judging by its deep purple skin, and flicks it up into the air towards me. "Happy Hunger Games…" He drawled, trying to imitate the foolish and affected Capitol accent. The result is so funny, I have a hard time catching the berry in my mouth before breaking into laughter.

"…and may the odds be ever in your favour." I reply, choking slightly. Effie Trinket's signature line every year is a source of common amusement between us. It's obvious she doesn't want to be District Twelve's chaperone, but until our lowly district becomes more interesting, she's stuck with us. And we with her. Honestly, I don't know who is the more disgusted.

X^._.^X

The journey back the fence is uneventful, but creeping over to the Hob is a different matter. Peacekeepers didn't often report us- they were some of our best customers- but on reaping day even they would turn you in.

Somehow we managed to reach the large black building undetected, and as soon as we entered, it became a battlefield.

Starving people were crammed into the building, trying to trade items for food, water, or more useful items.

All of our birds were gone before I could blink, in exchange for bandages, needle and thread for my mother, who ran an unofficial healing room at home helped by Prim, and several bars of soap.

The wild dog we traded with Greasy Sae- an old woman who sold soup with all manner of ingredients in it in all seasons. We could have sold it to anyone else, maybe even for a better price, but Greasy Sae was the only one who we could constantly rely on to buy from us on a regular basis.

No one from the Seam would turn their nose up at a leg of wild dog when they were starving, but the Peacekeepers, who were slightly better well off, could afford to be a bit choicer.

Pocketing the handful of coins, me and Gale wander around for several minutes, buying smaller- but still essential items- until eventually we emerge from the Hob, and make our way over to town.

The town isn't very big. It's right next to Victor's Village- a set of twenty or so houses in the only part of District Twelve that comes anywhere near the word- nice, made years ago for the Victors of District Twelve to live in. Now seventy four years later- only one house is occupied.

Town is a block of several buildings arranged in a large rectangle around town square- where the reaping were held, and the scarce village festivities.

Gale and I headed for the bakers.

We are always cautious, trading with him, because his wife whenever she sees us screams at us to leave, calling us all kinds of ugly names and that she'll call the Peacekeepers to drag us away.

All of that aside, the baker himself is quite nice. I've seen his son before at school sometimes, but I can't help but detest all the town folk.

It isn't their fault that a twist of fate landed them on the better side of the coin, but I can't help despising them all for having such easy lives. In the Seam, people are lucky to live past their early twenties, while town folk live up to their sixties- almost as long as those in the Capitol.

The baker- I'd never heard his first name- paid us far more than our usual rate in exchange for the squirrels, and when we looked at him in surprise, he glanced at me, then pressed a warm freshly baked loaf of bread into my hands.

It was soft and felt so out of place in my dirty hands. Something like this would cost me more than I could save up in a week.

I opened my mouth to protest- the money and now this?- when he interrupted. "For the little girl. I heard it's her first year."

All the fight drains out of me, and I just stand there dumbly with the bread.

I could dimly hear Gale thanking the baker, and then he was steering me out of the shop, and over to Mayor Undersee's house.

We don't trade directly with the Mayor, but he knows that we are the ones who sell him strawberries.

Madge, his daughter, a girl who goes to school with me opens the door when we knock. She is the only one except from Gale who I can actually call a friend. I don't know a lot of people at school, and maybe it's because I don't want to, or just because I avoid them and they tend to avoid me. Madge was also avoided, but just because she was the daughter of the Mayor. So eventually we started sitting together, pairing up for activities- we never really talked much, it was just an arrangement for convenience.

It was silent.

I only just realized that Madge had paid us, was holding the strawberries in her hands, and the three of us were standing awkwardly in the doorway of her home.

"Nice pin." I mumble, pointing at a gold pin on her shirt that could have fed both me and Gale's families for a month.

Madge blushes, and I know she knows what I know. "Thank you." She seems to be about to say more, but then stops talking again, and we stand for several more moments in silence.

"I like your dress." Gale said, and I glanced at him. Gale was commenting on a_ dress_? He must be worried. Yes it was a nice dress- a _very_ nice dress, probably handmade worth more than everything me and Gale had ever earned in our lives put together.

"Thank you, I want to look nice if I'm going to the Capitol."

Silence.

It's only when the last word drops from her lips does she realize her mistake.

I know the expression that is doubtlessly visible on my face, the twin expression of Gale's beside me. Twisted and furious. What chance did _Madge_ have of going to the Capitol? She was sixteen- my age, her name would only be put in five times. _She_ had grown up in luxury and comfort and would never have to enter her name in extra times for food and oil for her family. Like I did. Like Gale did.

It was called Tesserae, when you turned twelve your name was entered once, thirteen- twice, fourteen- three times- it went on. But if you lived in the Seam, you could sign up for meagre rations of grain and oil from the Capitol, in exchange for having your name entered extra times into the ball. You could do this for every member of your family. Gale had his entire family to support. I had my mother and Prim.

This year my name was to be entered into the ball twenty times.

Gale who was eighteen would have his name on forty-two.

Madge would have four.

"Thank you for the…" I trail off, ending the words I had managed to say without screaming in her face. _It's not her fault._ I try to tell myself.

Myself is not listening.

Madge backed away slowly, mouthing 'Sorry', and the door closes.

"Come on Catnip." Gale urges, and for the second time today, he steers me away, trying to pull me back to reality. But reality is a cold dark desolate place where the _odds are never in your favour_.

Why had me and Gale been born into _this_ world? Why did fate have to make it so that this year Gale's name would be on _forty two _slips of paper? That mine would be on _twenty_?

Gale and I split the money, and we stop outside my house. If you could call it that. It was a shabby affair, not holding even a candle to the houses in Victor's Village, or the ones in town.

We stare at each other for a moment, realizing that after today, either we'd both be back in our homes watching a boy and a girl go to their deaths, and cursing and hating the Capitol, or it will be one of us on the train to doom.

I want to say something, because for some reason this reaping seems more significant than the rest. That tomorrow will not have a single spark of the little happiness today. In the end, there are no words.

I nod at Gale, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and turns and walks away.

I want to call him back, to say something meaningful- maybe even the last words we'll say to each other, but for some reason it doesn't seem right. Maybe it would be better to save the next words for a happier time.

And so I turn too, and walk into my home.

The first thing I hear is Prim's startled yelps as my mother pours a bucket of ice water over her head to clean her, scrubbing her down vigorously.

The next is the annoyed hiss of the ugliest cat in the universe. And no I'm not exaggerating. If it wasn't for the fact that Prim adored him to bits, and that the miserable excuse for a cat managed to keep the mice levels down, I would have drowned him long ago and used his fur for mittens.

Buttercup hissed as I accidently trod on his tail. "Sorry!" I apologized automatically to the cat, and was about to rebut it, when Prim called me from the other room.

I stepped past Buttercup, and saw Prim struggling with the back of her shirt, which hung out from the back of her skirt, like a little duck tail.

The sight had me smiling involuntarily.

"Better tuck in that tail little duck!" I joked, tucking it in for her, and smoothing out her small skirt. I fussed around her twin pigtails, thanking whoever was up there that Prim's name was only in the ball once. The odds were completely stacked in her favour. Prim was safe.

Prim giggled and gave me a quiet: "Quack."

I smiled back, and my mother approached me with one of her own dresses.

It was a beautiful thing, obviously from her apothecary days, before father died and she retreated into her shell of herself, leaving me and Prim alone, trying to look after all of us.

I took it from her, trying not to be too harsh. Lately I tried to accept her help, not push her away like I used to after father died, blaming her for leaving Prim and me alone. I still did blame her. Prim was _seven_, and I was _twelve_, and I had to fend for both of us.

I shook the memories out of my mind, and dressed, letting my mother braid my hair.

Prim watches silently, the way she always has since his death. Such a small fragile shadow of her formerly cheery self. I blame that on mother too.

I hug Prim to myself, trying to console her and me that we are only one and twenty slips respectively in a huge set of thousands. It will be fine.

It will be fine.

It _will_ be fine.

X^._.^X

_It will be fine._

I can hear the words echoing in my head, mocking me as I watch my sister start, and begin to walk up to the stage, her tiny frame shaking with shock.

The relief that I had felt when the name read out was not _Katniss Everdeen_ was wiped out and instantly replaced with seer overwhelming terror.

She was _one_ name! _One name_ amongst thousands! The odds had all been in her favour!

The crowds were whispering restlessly, the way they always did when a twelve year old was chosen. They didn't think it was fair. And it wasn't.

None of this was.

There was nothing I could do as I watched Prim walk up slowly to the stage, the back of her shirt becoming un-tucked, hanging out like a duck tail.

Somehow that little detail un-freezes me, and I am doing something completely stupid, something completely reckless, and something that will mean my almost imminent death.

Something that is the only thing that can save Prim.

"I volunteer!" I yell, louder than necessary, probably louder than I've ever spoken in my life, but I am afraid they won't hear me. Afraid that they won't hear me and take Prim away- and I can't let that happen, I can't.

_I'm sorry Gale._

But they do hear.

"I volunteer!" I gasp again, shoving my way through the mass of bodies to get to Prim, the people automatically forming a path from me to her, their expressions a mix of pity and regret.

I slam into Prim, holding her to me, letting her sobs rack my body. "It's okay," I whisper to her, but it doesn't make a difference, because it's not okay- and how can it be?

Then the Peacekeepers surround me, and they start to take me up to the stage.

Prim clings to me, screaming. "No, Katniss, you can't go! Katniss _no_!"

Her screams almost break my heart, but I can't let her go. "Prim let go." I say, my voice colder than it should be- but she needs to let go.

I try to pry her off me, I know that if I don't, the Peacekeepers will, and they will by no means be as gentle as me.

Then a pair of rough hands replace mine, and Gale is there, lifting Prim away.

My eyes meet his, and in them I see reflected his own horror, terror, pain and sadness. Then it is replaced by something else, something I can't identify, and before the Peacekeepers close off my view from him, I hear him say "Katniss do you trust me?"

I don't know whether or not I heard him right, I don't know whether he spoke at all- it seemed like an odd thing to say at a moment like this, but I didn't want my last words to be "_What?_" so I answer his question, but for some reason it seemed like an answer to another one. "With all my heart and soul." I whisper.

I don't know whether he heard me, whether the wall of the Peacekeeper's bodies blocked out the words, but I have no choice now, but to walk up to the stage, escorted by the Peacekeepers, and stand there, waiting.

Effie Trinket drifts over to me- how she managed to walk at all in those five foot tall death traps was beyond me, and bursting with enthusiasm, she begins her interrogation. "Well bravo! That's the real spirit of the games!" she gushes.

I have to fight the urge to gag- whether it is by her words, or the reek of her Capitol perfume, the woman revolts me.

"What's your name?" she asks, still grinning away. Probably glad for once District Twelve has some action in it.

I don't want to answer, to give the Capitol who are all doubtless watching now, glued to their T.V screens as I am being broadcasted live, information about me, but I have to. This is the Games, and I have no control.

"Katniss Everdeen."

I mean the words to be a mumble, but as Effie was her microphone inches from my lips, everyone hears.

"Well I bet my buttons that was your sister!" Effie bubbles on, talking about the Games, and the spirit of them, and how much of an honour it is, until I just stop listening.

My eyes wander up, past the ugly grey buildings of District Twelve, to the green woods beyond. If I had done what Gale had so outrageously suggested before in the morning- would we have been out there now? Hiding, hunting, surviving? Being free?

_No._

I told myself. Because if I had gone, who would have volunteered for Prim? Even if she had other siblings- family love only got you so far. The arena was a field of blood. What I did was the irrational thing.

"And now for the boys!" Effie hurries over to the glass ball that holds all the names of the boys between 12-18 in District Twelve, and almost immediately she withdraws her hand from the ball holding a small slip of paper. She obviously wanted to be done here and return to the Capitol.

She unfolds the paper, and I am praying, praying with all that I have that it is not Gale, is not Gale, it is not Gale…

And she reads it out.

And it is not Gale.

"Peeta Mellark!"

The words sound, and I blink, confused for a second- and then the relief hits me- clear relief that it is not Gale who will be sentenced to die with me in the arena.

My eyes focus back on the audience, on the people penned in, in the village square watching. And I see Gale standing next to Prim, and I see the resolve in his eyes.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no….

_Don't do this! _I will him. If he does, who will look after our families, who will keep them all going? _Please Gale?_

_Katniss do you trust me?_

And I know what he means.

_With all my heart and soul._

"I volunteer." Says Gale.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Katniss Trust me.

I am glaring at Gale as the Peacekeepers surround him and escort him up to the stage with me.

I don't hear Effie gushing on about how amazing this is- District Twelve's first _two_ volunteers.

The mayor goes up and gives his signature boring ten-minute long speech, ten minutes of which me and Gale stare forwards in stony silence.

I don't look at the audience, I don't look at my mother, I don't look at Prim. If I do I'll break out crying and sobbing right in front of the cameras, and when they replay the reaping later on today, I will be singled out as one of the weaker ones, the main targets.

I don't look at Gale, because if I do, I will leap at Effie, or the camera's or anyone who is to blame for this- and then what would happen?

It is only when Effie asks for applause that I lower my gaze to District Twelve. And to their everlasting credit, no one claps.

Silence.

Absolute silence that seems to beat down on my eardrums.

We were protesting in the only way that we could- by doing nothing. _Because in the end it's what matters right_? I asked myself. There was nothing we would ever be able to do to change this- to tear down this regime of terror and horror but for the smallest actions.

And what happens next is too uniform, too sudden and too smooth to merely be chance. Every one of the audience presses three fingers to their lips and holds their hands out towards me and Gale, it's a gesture that we see at funerals- a goodbye to those who have left. A goodbye and respect for those that you love.

And it shocks me to the core, because I never really thought of District Twelve as a place that particularly cared for me and Gale, but it seems that in the past few minutes, we have become something precious.

And now I am really in danger of crying, but I force my face to remain a blank mask as District Twelve pays tribute to us.

X^._.^X

I am shoved into a small room in the Justice building, after the final formalities, and I want so badly to break down, but my red eyes will be a target later on, so I force myself to remain stoic.

The door opens and Prim and my mother come in.

And then I cry. I can't help it, but I cry.

I cry for me, I cry for Prim, I cry for my mother, I cry for Gale, and I cry for every past person who lives under the Capitol's dictatorship.

They hug me as I cry, and when the tears stop, I realize what I have to do.

I grip Prim's shoulders. This is important. If I go, she _will_ live on. She _will_ survive. She has to. "Listen Prim, this is important. You can survive. No, don't say otherwise- you will survive alright?" My voice is hard, but I need her to understand. "Don't sign up for the Tesserae, it's not worth it, don't risk it, you can get along with the money you get from selling the milk and cheese from your goat alright Prim?" I shake her slightly, because her eyes are misting over too, and I will break too if she does. "Greasy Sae will probably help you, but don't go into the Hob, or the woods do you hear me?"

I know Prim won't be able to stand killing animals for food, the few times I tried to teach her how to hunt, she was so terrible, and she cried whenever I shot something, and if it was only injured, she would say that if we took it home right then, we could heal it. If Prim went to the Hob, I didn't want people to take advantage of her age, or her sweet nature.

I have said all I can to Prim, to ensure that she keeps going on, but she can't do it alone. I turn to my mother. The mother who abandoned us five years ago.

"Listen, you can't do it again." She knows what I mean.

"No matter what you see- no matter what happens, you need to stay, do you hear me?" I am yelling at her, but part of me tells me she deserves it. She deserves it for leaving me to look after Prim alone, she deserves it for the haunted look in Prim's eyes ever since father died, she deserves it for leaving the both of us alone and forced to look after ourselves.

"This time I won't be here to keep us going, okay? Prim needs you- YOU, she can't do this alone. You can't leave again, you can't just abandon her like that!" I shake her too, and I can see it in her eyes that she understands.

She gives me a brief nod, then pulls me into a hug. Me and Prim both.

And it occurs to me that this is the first time we have hugged each other in years.

So we stand there, locked in an embrace, until a Peacekeeper comes to the door, and orders them out.

I pray for Prim to be brave, and she is.

She gives me a last squeeze, and wordlessly walks out, followed by my mother.

The door slams, and I am left alone once again.

Minutes pass, and then the door opens again.

Madge comes in.

After I am over the shock of seeing her, she quickly comes over and stands in front of me. She isn't crying, and she doesn't do anything, but look at me.

I meet her eyes, and I see respect.

"I'll help look after them," she says instantly, "I'll do whatever I can to make sure they both survive."

I feel a rush of gratitude to my only friend at school, maybe the only one that will be left to look after Prim and my mother.

My eyes voice all the things that I could never possibly hope to say, a silent _thanks_ to Madge, for everything.

"I'm sorry." She whispers after a while, and I realize what she means. It's an apology for everything, an apology for herself, for me, for the Capitol…. Everything.

"It's not your fault." I say. And it isn't.

She holds her hand out to me, and I see a flash of gold in her hand. It's her pin. The pin from this morning.

"You're allowed to take one thing to represent your district." She says to me, her gaze lowering slightly, as if she is afraid I will reject her. "I thought it might bring you good luck."

_Good luck?_

I take it anyway, it is the only thing Madge can give really, apart from helping my family. It's her way of acknowledging our sacrifice. My hand closes around the smooth circle of gold.

I examine it, and I realize it is more detailed than I first thought.

It's a small image of a bird, a small bird, its wings outstretched in flight. I've seen them before, in the woods.

A mockingjay.

Mockingjays were birds that were never meant to exist.

In the past, when the war between the Capitol and the districts was desperate, the Capitol created Jabberjays, birds that could record entire conversations and relay them back to the Capitol. Of course the rebels caught on after time, and sent decoys and false messages to the Capitol.

Furious, the Capitol eradicated all the birds, but not before they had mated with the local mockingbirds, creating a cross between the two species- Mockingjays.

They were somewhat of a slap in the face to the Capitol, and it is perfect for me.

I allow a small smile to creep across my face as I pin it to my dress.

"Thank you."

Madge nods, and before I can react, she gives me a quick hug, and then she is gone.

The baker is next.

He steps into the room, looking rather awkward and out of place, but I am touched he came all the same. Peeta is his son, I remember, the bakers son- the one who…

Images flash past my eyes, and I remember that fateful night.

X^._.^X

Father died, mother did nothing but sit and stare at the blank wall opposite, and I had not yet ventured into the woods.

Time passed, and I tried to look after all of us, trying to ration the food, save the money, keep us looking presentable. If the Peacekeepers found out about our predicament, they would send Prim to the girl's home, and I had walked by seeing the stares of the haunted, sunken eyed, hollow cheeked girls staring forlornly out of the windows for long enough to vow that Prim never entered those doors.

But time passed, and we were all slowly starving to death.

One day all the money had run out, and all the food had gone, I stumble down the streets holding a small pile of Prim's baby clothes, trying to sell them, or trade them for anything that resembled food.

I was so tired, and I had dropped the clothes in a puddle a while back. I didn't pick them up. No one wanted them anyway, and I didn't want to bend down, afraid that I wouldn't be able to get up.

The soft warm scent of break drifted over to me from the open doors to the Baker's shop. The smell made me faint and dizzy at the same time.

I slumped down on the ground next to the house, and the next moment, I am being screamed at by the baker's wife, ugly words about how she did not want dirty kids from the Seam near her store, and that I was to leave unless she would call the Peacekeepers.

Moments later, when she re-entered the shop, there was a scream, and what sounded like a slap.

The door of the shop opened, and a boy, my age stepped out, holding two loaves of burnt bread.

He must have dropped them in the fire by accident, and judging by the red mark on his face, his mother had not been pleased.

Idly I mused over my parents. They had never hit me or Prim, yelled sometimes, but never hit..

The boy began ripping chunks of break to throw to the pigs beside the shop, and then looking from left to right, he suddenly threw both loaves in my direction, and he was gone before I had fully understood what had happened.

Had he meant them for me? Who else would they had been for? A small amount of strength crept back into my limbs, and I scooped up the bread. It was warm- hot, and the heat was life.

I almost ran back to home, where I sat Prim down, and made my mother come to the table. I cut the bread- it was fine really, only the edges were charred, and we ate it slowly, bite by bite, savouring the life flowing back through us.

The next day I left the house, and my eyes fell on the woods just outside of District Twelve's fence. The world looked fresh and new- as new as it could in District Twelve, and as I looked at the leafy expanse, I realized that life was right outside our doorstep.

Father had done it. I had done it with him too.

We would survive.

X^._.^X

I am glad his son- Peeta will not be going into the games.

And that is why the baker is here.

Because Peeta isn't.

Gale is.

And the small amount of hope and happiness is gone.

"I brought you something." He mumbles, pushing a small bundle in a paper bag towards me. I know by the smell that it is bread. Like the bread from this morning.

"I…" I don't know what to say.

Because while I still owe Peeta, and that I am glad he will not have to die, I hate myself thinking that I would rather he die, than Gale.

The baker seems to understand, and merely gives me a gentle smile, before saying over his shoulder as he leaves, "I'll make sure your sister eats."

And I am alone.

Again.

Did I really affect so many people? First Madge and her gift, promising to look after my family, and now the baker, giving me bread, and promising to feed my family?

Whatever the reason, I am glad.

I am glad that even when I am gone, my family will be able to keep on living.

_Because isn't that the real game? To keep on living?_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Katniss How do we live like this?

I see Gale again as we board the train, our eyes meeting, a mix of emotions between us before the crowd of Capitol folk, and cameramen sweep us apart.

The Capitol train, a shimmering beautiful silver marvel that looks as fast as light even when motionless- the symbol of death to all citizens of District Twelve is right in front of me, and as I grab the pole to hoist myself into the train, Effie babbling on behind me, it all becomes a reality.

I am going into the Hunger Games. And Gale is coming with me.

It's my worst nightmare come true.

The instant the train pulls away from the station, speeding up until the world outside is little more than a blur, I find myself in a large spacious living room, where everything in there is sparkling, spotless and expensive.

I feel out of place. Insignificant, small and puny.

What chance do I have? What chance do I have of winning, me and Gale both?

There is no way I am coming home, even though I know I have to try for Prim. She never said so in so much as words, but it was in the final glance that she gave me. The overwhelming _trust_ in me to make it back.

And then my gaze falls on the one other person in the room who looks just as much out of place as I do.

My feet are tripping forwards to Gale, and I am in his arms, hugging him to me, and me to him as I bask in the luxury of knowing that he is there with me.

He is there with me.

And then suddenly I am angry, angry beyond reckoning at Gale for damning himself like this.

My arm pulls back, and I let it snap forward- putting all my strength into the blow.

It hits Gale in the jaw, making his head jerk backwards.

Effie is squawking behind me, and I can hear her calling for someone named 'Avox' to restrain me, but all that matters is the _stupid_ boy in front of me.

"Damn you Gale!" I yell at him. "Why the _hell_ did you volunteer?"

I don't wait to hear his answer, I continue yelling. "Why the hell didn't you think about your family? Your mom? Rosy? Rory? _My _family- _Prim_? And what about me?" I snarl, well beyond reason. "Did you have any idea what this would do to _me?_ Gale! We're sent in there to _kill_ each other Gale!"

Instead of trying to shove me off, try to placate me, or anything of that sort, I am suddenly crushed against his chest in a fierce hug.

"I asked you whether or not you trusted me," Gale began, his arms still around me, and for some reason, I don't push him away. Right now, no matter how much I was mad at him- I wasn't letting him go.

I open my mouth to say more, but he hurries on without stopping. "…and you said yes. And right now Catnip I need you to do that. I need you to trust me- that whatever the reasons- no matter how hopeless it seems- I know what I'm doing."

Gale doesn't rant and rave like I thought he would, and it stops me in the middle of whatever speech I had planned. It seems so impossible- how can anything be right? Gale knows that we have no chance of winning, and even if we did, _both_ of us couldn't win. The alternative was horrible.

Instead, I merely nod against his chest, then shrug my way out of his embrace.

Effie had disappeared- clearly after she had determined that me and Gale weren't going to kill each other- yet.

We sit on the very edge of one of the plush couches that surround the room, wondering in a mixture of disgust and admiration just how many people from the other districts had played a part in making this extravagant carriage?

We knew the Capitol didn't make anything itself, it leeched off the other districts, thousands dying in the process of making the Capitol's luxuries. The coal burning in the fireplace in the corner came from our mines. The soft fabric we were sitting on probably came from District 8- textiles.

We are both shaken out of our mood when the door to our compartment slides open, and a very drunk Haymitch Abernathy, our very own last surviving Victor from District Twelve- the one responsible to help us survive, staggers in, with a half full bottle of liquor in his hand.

He collapses down next to us, taking a deep swig of the liquid, and I fight to keep the disgust off our face. It is not surprise none of the other tributes from District Twelve have ever survived with Haymitch as their mentor. He probably never even gave them a chance.

"So," I begin, because maybe I should give him a chance, "you're meant to help us survive."

He doesn't even hear me.

He leans over to the table before us, the table that I hadn't even noticed before. Well I had, but I hadn't realized what was on it. It was loaded with delicacies, food, extravagant food that almost flowed off the sides of the table, looking so mouth-wateringly perfect before I had mistaken it for plastic fakes, like the fake plastic fruit in bowls that I often saw at school as a substitute for real food.

A whole table- laden with enough food I think it could feed almost the whole Seam for a few days.

I see Gale's face, and it is just as twisted and disgusted as mine is. Haymitch- he _knows _what well will be going through soon, he _knows_ and yet he kicks back, drinking alcohol and feasting on delicacies that would make Prim faint.

Finally, he speaks. "You want advice sweetheart?" his voice is slow from the liquor, and his foul breath makes me want to gag. He seems to think for a few seconds, then drawls- smirking slightly- "Stay alive."

Stay alive.

Stay alive?

_Stay alive?_

How the hell are we meant to _stay alive_? We are stuck in an arena with twenty two other tributes trying to kill us, no idea of what the arena will be like, and a mentor who won't even stay sober enough to try and help us.

Both my and Gale's bodies move before our brain has caught up with our motions.

My hand finds a knife on the table, and I hurl it at Haymitch- it buries itself a mere centimetre away from his ear, and Gale had leapt over the table, and punched Haymitch in the face.

Haymitch recovers fairly quickly, in a move that I would not have imagined possible for someone as drunk as he, he slid an inch back, and slammed Gale in the chest, knocking him backwards, and in a swift motion, yanked the knife from the wall behind him, and hurled it back at me, pinning my dress sleeve to the chair.

I quickly stand, the dress tearing.

We are all standing now, breathing heavily as we regard each other.

I now know not to underestimate Haymitch, who for all his drunken façade is now standing looking at us with surprising brightness in his formerly bleary eyes.

For the first time, I feel hope. Maybe Haymitch isn't as useless as we thought.

After a while, he moves, circling me and Gale. "You two have spirit- that's good, you'll need it in the Games. You're both attractive, that's good- the stylists will be pleased."

I know better than to reply, it's true- most sponsors go for the better looking tributes, and Gale, well he falls nothing short of handsome. Myself? I suppose I did inherit my mother's looks, and from what others tell me, she was very pretty when she was younger.

Haymitch finally stops and sits down, I try not to laugh at his steadily blackening eye.

"You- sweetheart can you hit anything else apart from the wall with that knife?"

I jerk slightly as he addresses me- his voice is suddenly more confident- he knows what he's talking about.

If I want to make an impression- I need to make it now. I suppose I am good with a knife, probably not as good as some Careers- tributes from the wealthier districts who train their whole lives to enter the games, but enough hunting with both a bow, knife and even slingshots for a few years does make me somewhat of an expert.

I yank the knife that Haymitch threw back at me out of the chair- I try not to look impressed that it has buried itself almost an inch in the wooden chair- and after taking a brief moment to aim, I hurl it at one of the trays carrying real fruit, pears, oranges, and other fruits that would cost a fortune to buy in District Twelve.

The knife shoots through the air, impaling a pear at the top of the pile, and nailing it to the wall.

Haymitch's eyes flicker in surprise, before he quickly masks it.

I hide a smirk, he wasn't expecting it.

"Not bad," he mutters, "now what else can you do?"

This question is directed at both of us, and I blink at Gale to go first.

"Well," Gale seems obviously uneasy about talking so easily to a man who he had just attacked a moment ago, but replies well enough. "I'm decent with a bow and arrows, but Katniss is a thousand times better, I can throw knives like her, but I suppose my strong point is traps and snares."

I frown at him. That is most definitely not all his talents! "No, he's excellent! He can hit moving targets with a bow nine times out of ten, and he is even better than me at knives, his traps and snares are genius, and he's great at hand to hand combat!"

Gale glares at me like he doesn't want me sprouting all his achievements. "Yes, but you hit moving targets ten out of ten Katniss, in all the time I've known you, you've never missed once! And she's fast-" Gale gestures at me, talking to Haymitch now, "-she won all the races at school, she can climb up the tallest trees without falling, and she's really agile too!"

I don't know where all the praises are coming from, except that they are most definitely not true.

…or are they?

Now that Gale has said them, I do realize that maybe his right. I did win all the races at school, and it is always me that scales the trees to find apples and berries and nuts, not Gale.

Instead I just remain silent as Haymitch looks at the both of us.

Suddenly I'm worried that we have given too much away. It's glaringly obvious now that we both hunt illegally, how else would we have that list of talents? I hope for both our sakes, and the sakes of our family and friends at the Hob, that Haymitch won't betray us.

"Alright. I'll make you a deal, you leave me alone with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you, deal?"

The offer takes me by surprise. It isn't great or ideal, but it is better than we could have hoped for.

We shake, and Haymitch exits, with a parting- "When we reach the Capitol, do whatever the stylists tell you- don't argue, just go along with it."

We are left alone to contemplate the words.

X^._.^X

Me and Gale talk, not a steady conversation, but a few words now and again.

The tension is high, and the atmosphere is strained.

I don't know when the awkwardness began, but it was odd to praise each other in such a fashion. True we had done it before, but never like this.

Before when we had been talking, it was almost as if we weren't friends, as if we were merely tributes ranting off a list of each other's talents impersonally. I felt like I didn't know Gale at all.

I don't even know whether it makes sense.

Effie comes back in eventually, muttering something about Haymitch and his less than orthodox behaviour for the cameras, then invites us to lunch.

Lunch.

At District Twelve we didn't really have _lunch_.

Usually in the mornings we ate whatever was left over from yesterday's hunt, which was not much, then for lunch at school I went without, giving whatever food I had left to Prim, who needed it far more than I did, and for dinner we had something that was almost a square meal because I would have hunted with Gale in the evening.

So when we sat down at the spotlessly clean table, with trays amongst trays of food lining the edges, I felt faint.

I was childishly afraid that the food would vanish as I ate it, something that most Seam kids were prone for.

It is only Gale, who pinches my arm and whispers conspiratally in my ear- "Come on eat up Catnip, or I'm eating your share too-" that makes me unfreeze and begin to eat.

The first mouthful is heaven.

I think it's some sort of steak dish, with herbs and a salad at the side, and an odd mush that Effie calls 'gravy', and it tastes unbelievable.

I can see the same wonder on Gale's face, and we begin to dig in in earnest.

My stomach isn't used to such fine food, and not in such amounts either. I manage to make it through the first course, then the second, which is a soup with odd chunks of potatoes that are so unlike the rough tasteless ones at District Twelve, and the third- which is not desert- a fish that has been steamed so that the flesh melts in the mouth.

Me and Gale are groaning and fit to burst when they carry desert in.

It is a chocolate pudding with cherries on top.

Chocolate.

I could remember the first time Prim ever tasted chocolate- declaring it was the best thing she had ever tasted in her life.

It was her seventh birthday, just before father died, and for once we were going to have a proper celebration. Father had taken extra shifts at the mines, managing to save up enough money to buy one of the small cakes at the bakers. We had traded a rabbit he had shot in the woods for a candle, and mother and father had both gotten Prim a present. That left me the only one without something to get Prim.

I had wandered down the streets for a few hours, peeking into shops for something that I could get Prim. I knew she wouldn't want anything too fussy, and would hate it if I spent money on her.

That day was the first time I met Madge.

She was buying something in a store with her mother, a giant egg that was chocolate, and I didn't realize that I was staring until Madge was right in front of me, offering me a small chocolate rabbit,

I had blushed madly, embarrassed that I was staring before the mayor's wife, and Madge, who I had seen sometimes at school, but they had insisted, and filled with giddiness, I carried the bunny home.

It was far too small for all of us to eat it, but Prim insisted what we share it, and the smile of joy and radiance in her face made me want to buy all the chocolate in the world and give it all to Prim.

The next day, father had died.

Somehow, it was the happiest memory I could remember from before father's death, and I could see Prim's delighting smile swimming before my eyes as the pudding was carried in.

Resolve filled me. I would win the games. I would find a way to get back to Prim and see that beautiful smile on her face again.

But.

But Gale. The self-assured smile, and ever constant and comforting presence as we hunted together in the woods was something that I needed just as much as Prim's happiness.

What could I do?

"Well at least you two have good manners!" pipes up Effie, to fill the silence I hadn't noticed creeping up on us, "the last two tributes from your District's table manners were horrible! They ate like savages!"

I am jerked out of my thoughts by Effie's words, said in a girlish high-pitched voice.

The last two tributes from District Twelve were a pair of kids from the Seam, neither of them had had enough food to eat for a day in their lives, and they were both slaughtered in the first day in the arena. The food in the train ride must have seemed to them like a gift from heaven.

Yes me and Gale know how to handle a knife and fork, our parents made sure of that, but I hate Effie's comment so much, that without warning, I throw down my silverware, and proceed to eat my pudding with my hands, messy as it is.

Gale goes a step further, chewing with his mouth open, causing Effie to squeal in disgust, and smearing chocolate all over his mouth.

Against my will, I laugh, the first time since we were reaped.

Gale gives me a good natured nudge, causing me to spill pudding down the front of my dress.

He winks at me, and I realize his point.

I shove him back, causing his plate to overturn on his lap, and he throws a dish of some sort of sausage at me, which I dodge, and it flies into Effie's hair instead.

She screams, and runs out of the room, saying something about rabid animals.

Me and Gale are laughing too much to care.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Katniss. On fire.

They replayed the reaping of the day when Haymitch returned- slightly more sober than before, and Effie- having apparently showered and changed, after lecturing us about eating habits, something both Gale and I ignored.

The first is District One, a blond in a provocative dress who obviously is much too eager for the cameras, then a tall boy who volunteers. District Two has two volunteers, the first- a girl who has sharp cruel features, and a boy who has yelled out "I volunteer," before their chaperone has even taken a step towards the boy's glass ball. He is a hulking huge figure, a mass of muscle and brute strength.

The rest of the reaping's blur together, only a few stand out in my mind. A sly girl with red hair from District 5 (is it 4 or 5, I can't remember.), a huge boy from District Eleven, and from the same district, a small twelve year old girl who reminds me so much of Prim my chest hurts.

Then it is our turn.

I can hear Effie calling out Prim's name again, and it is all I can do to not leap across the sofa and strangle Effie to death.'

Then I am yelling out the two words- "I volunteer," so loudly, because I am afraid no one will hear me, and shoving my way down the aisle to Prim. I thank God that my voice sounds steady when I tell Prim to let go, and am grateful beyond words that although the cameras pick up Gale mouthing words to me, they cannot hear what we said.

I am escorted up to the stage, and stare solidly out into the distance. On screen, it is impossible to see the inner turmoil inside me, that is until the camera me looks at Gale, and the mask seems to crumple slightly.

Gale is volunteering again, and being led up to the stage with me, looking just as firm and resolute as I do, even though the camera alternates between showing Gale's stoic face, and mine, which is angry before it shifts back into calm indifference.

The commentators don't know what to say about District Twelve's final salute, but they manage to say something about how District Twelve has always been very slow, but our local customs are quite sweet. But me and Gale know different, and his hand finds mine, and gives it a gentle squeeze.

The camera cuts away to the farewell at the train station, and I am pleased to see that although my eyes are slightly red, there is no sign that I had been crying.

"Well," says Effie, when we finally turn off the television, "we should be arriving in the Capitol tomorrow, so you should both get a rest."

She shepherds us to two adjacent rooms on the train, then leaves.

I glance at Gale again, and he looks back at me too. "So." A stupid thing to say, but I know that this train is probably bugged, and there could be people listening to us right now at this very moment.

He seems to understand, and thinks for a moment before gesturing at me to follow him. We reach a door that reads, MAINANENCE, and as it slides open with a soft hiss, I see a short ladder leading up to the roof of the train.

We climb up it, and suddenly the sound of the wind roaring past us is almost deafening. Strangely enough the wind isn't as strong as it would be traveling at this speed. The hills and towns are flashing past us they are an indistinguishable blur, but the wind that whipped past us was barely more than a breeze although the noise is no less decreased.

"Aren't they worried we'll jump?" I asked Gale, shouting above the wind.

He shrugs, then reaches an arm out into the empty space before him.

There is a sudden zap, and Gale jolts back like he has been electrocuted.

"Always so paranoid." I say, shaking my head. I know someone might hear me, but to hell with them. We're on the train to death anyway.

"Not without good reason though." Says Gale, although I can tell he agrees with me.

We flop down onto the smooth steel of the train's roof, and watch the land, trees, and towns blur by. Regardless of the loudness of the wind, and the horror of the situation, this is actually quite peaceful. It's the first time me and Gale have properly been alone since the Reaping.

"Should we have run?" he asks.

I think about it. _Should we have_? If there had been no Prim, if we had no families to look after, should we have run? I think about it, and I am ashamed of the answer. "I don't know about should have, but I know that I would have."

Gale at least, is just as bad as me, "Yeah. Me too."

I rest my head on Gale's shoulder, and it's just a friendly motion. I can hear his heart through his thin shirt, and it comforts me to know that at least he's here with me, and I'm not alone.

Eventually he speaks again. "So what will happen now?"

His question is indirect, but then that's Gale. We know each other so well, a single twitch speaks volumes. "In the Games? We stay alive."

He smiles, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "No, I mean us. I'll be fighting with you the whole time, but what if…"

_What if one of us dies?_

It only just occurs to me that we might die. That we might not even live out the first few seconds of the Games. I know for a fact that I would never be able to kill Gale, even if I wanted to, and I know it's the same in reverse, but what if the unspeakable happens, and he dies?

Then I know.

"We keep on going. We are the hunters. We keep on going and show them that we aren't the prey." My voice is suddenly colder, imagining the hunt. Except for once we are also the hunted, not only the hunter, and the hate for the Capitol wells up in me again.

Now Gale smiles for real, and it's the sun breaking out from behind the clouds. "There's my Catnip."

"Shut up Gale."

It's dark now, but I know his smile is brighter than ever. "For you Catnip, anytime."

"We should go down now." I finally say.

"Yeah, we should."

Neither of us move.

"Gale…. I know you said trust me, but I need to know- Why did you volunteer? I did it to save Prim… But you-"

"Catnip, you didn't possibly think I'd let you die alone now would you?"

That stops me.

His tone is light, joking, but the words have so many meanings. His tone is _too_ light, _too _innocent. The way he said _die alone_, almost as if he knew neither of us would survive. And then the whole sentence together. How did he know that if I could choose one person to die alongside, it would be him? Selfish as it is there wasn't another person I'd rather die by.

And then the pure unselfishness of his words hits me. He would die by me, _for _me. He would die _for me._ _Me_! Gale and I had been friends for almost five to six years now, but lately I wondered whether that's all he is to me. _Friends,_ or even just _best friends_, seems too light a term for what Gale means to each other.

_Boyfriend_ though… The word scares me. Especially now of all times.

Part of me is still telling me to back away, saying that I can't do this, not now, not when we're both about to die. If I open that door then I'll regret it for the short amount of time I have left on this earth. And then another. Another evil voice whispering that if I'm going to die, then what's the point? Just grab Gale and kiss him, and revel in the time we have left together.

I shove the thought aside quickly. It wouldn't be fair. Not for him, not for me.

I find my voice. "Well then, I might as well tell you now then, if you had volunteered for one of your brothers, I would have joined you too."

He shifts, and even though it is almost pitch black by now- the moon high in the sky- I can see his eyes meeting mine, and he understands.

It's as far as I am willing to go right now.

x^._.^x

My room on the Capitol train is bigger than our entire family's house put together. Maybe even bigger than two of our houses put together. The bed is much too big, the sheets feel suspiciously of silk. All this extravagance, all at the hands of the Districts slaving under the Capitol.

It's almost an insult. Giving us tributes all this finery to enjoy in the two weeks before we are sentenced to die.

I sit down on the bed, feeling tiny and insignificant in comparison to the room. I know I should be getting some rest, but I can't seem to lower my defences in this foreign territory. I want Gale, even though we only separated a minute ago. I want someone from home, to keep hold of my sanity.

I slowly change out of my mother's dress, re-dressing in a clean outfit, simple black pants made of a stiff material and a green collared shirt. I unpin the pin that Madge gave me, and re-pin in on my shirt.

Something rustles in my mother's dress as I fold it neatly, and I reach inside the deep pockets to find an odd package.

It's the loaf of bread the baker gave me, cool now, but it still smells heavenly. It's not the luxurious fare that I ate at dinner, but something simpler, and it reminds me of home. _Home._

I gently rip off small pieces, savouring each bite, and just like that, I drift off to sleep.

x^._.^x

We don't see much of Haymitch as we pull into the Capitol train station, only Effie, who is bubbling with enthusiasm behind us.

Against my will, I am impressed. The Capitol is amazing, towers and buildings stretching so high as if competing with gravity, and the whole place is sparkling in the fresh rays of the morning. Everything is so _clean,_ so big, so sophisticated.

As soon as we step from the train, we are surrounded. It's almost as bad as before in District Twelve when we boarded the train, only now I have nowhere to look for comfort, no trees in the distance, no glimpse of the run-down houses on the streets that I call home.

I see Gale, and he grimaces reassuringly at me, causing a small smile of mine in return before the crowd sweeps us apart.

I am whisked off to my stylists, who resemble exotic birds more than people. I will never understand the Capitol fashion, who calls blue hair and green skin beautiful?

Riiippppp!

Another sheet of waxing paper is torn from my legs, and I am left with a pair of silky smooth, bright red, and flaming legs. I grit my teeth to keep from swearing aloud. I hope that Haymitch knows what he's talking about because without his words ringing in my ears, I would have jumped up hours ago and made a mad rush for the door.

"Almost done now!" babbles a woman who is holding the last strip of wax. "I'm sorry it hurts so much, you're just so hairy!"

I can't understand these people. The way they act, the way they dress, the way they look, even the way they talk. What is with their high pitched endings, making the sentence a question, the long drawing out of the 's' and how they are constantly smiling every second?

"Now, you finally look human!" smiles a man named Flavius, while he circles me, removing any last bits of hair.

I'm totally naked, and I know I should feel embarrassed or self-conscious, but my prep team are so inhuman like it's no worse than if I was alone in a room with a couple of strangely coloured birds pecking around me.

Finally they finish their inspection, and I smile at them, forcing my distaste down. "Thank you! We don't have much cause to look good in District Twelve." I am hating myself, but I am the hunter, and I need these people on my side.

This wins them over completely. "Of course you don't you poor girl! Now don't worry, Cinna will be along in a while, and he'll see what to do with you alright?"

Another one of those painful smiles, and I try to copy it, then my prep team files out, and I am left alone to nurse my raw skin.

Minutes pass, then the door to the room hisses open, and a man I assume to be Cinna steps in.

To my surprise, he looks human. He isn't surgically altered, and he seems genuinely young, unlike the older stylists who are probably in their sixties, but have had enough skin grafts to appear young, that they no longer even look human. The only unnatural thing I can see, is the artfully brushed on gold eyeliner, which brings out the specks of gold in his eyes. I can't help but think how attractive it looks.

He circles me, and _now _I feel uncomfortable, but it only lasts for a second before he gives me a paper shift to wear, resembling a hospital gown, and sits me down.

"Your hair is beautiful, who did it?" His voice is also lacking the Capitol's affections, and sounds quite normal. I relax slightly.

"My mother." Of all of me, my hair is the only thing that has been left alone, the rest of me scrubbed down and de-haired, but they have left my head untouched.

"Ah."

"You're new aren't you? I haven't seen you before." I am certain that I would have remembered if I had seen him on television. Against all the other grotesque stylists he would stand out a mile.

"Yes, this is my first year in the Games."

I resist the urge to say- _me too._ But it's a stupid childish response. I decide on another response. "So they gave you District Twelve." It's true. They give the most undesirable districts to the newbies.

"I asked for District Twelve."

I want to ask him why, but he doesn't elaborate.

He leads me out of the room, into another slightly bigger sitting room, which is just as extravagant as any other room in the Capitol. He pushes a button, and a meal, steaming hot and ready appears in front of me.

I am suddenly reminded of the loaf of bread the baker gave me.

It was one loaf, but in District Twelve it would have been a fortune to buy, and it was probably all the baker could spare. If I had not volunteered, I would probably have eaten half a loaf of bread like that once every two years if I was lucky, and yet here, at the press of a button, a full three course meal would appear, dozens of soft white loaves, each ten times more luxurious than the loaf I was given, chicken dripping with gravy, freshly peeled oranges, roast chicken dripping with gravy….

I wonder what Prim and my mother are eating right now. Madge and the Baker promised they wouldn't starve, and I hope they've held to that promise.

So many starving, so many _dead_ because of starvation, and here in the Capitol, food appears at the push of a button while they spend their days lounging around, decorating their bodies, and watching children battle to the death.

I tear my eyes away from the meal, no longer hungry, and I see Cinna staring at me. "How despicable we must seem to you." He says quietly.

I don't deny it. Gale always said I was an open book, when I let my guard down, every emotion I felt would appear on my face, I don't know whether or not it's true, only that what Cinna said is right. They all are despicable.

"No matter." Cinna says levelly. "Now my partner Portia is responsible for taking care of your fellow tribute Gale, and it is our job to dress you in complementary costumes which reflect your district."

I fight the edge to wince. For the opening ceremonies, you're supposed to wear something that represents your district's industry. District 11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories.

I come from District 12. Coal mining.

This means me and Gale will be dressed in a coal miner's outfit. Seeing as the coal-miner's costume is hardly flattering or attractive, most years the tributes are dressed in horrible skimpy outfits with headlamps. One year the tributes were stark naked and covered in black powder to resemble coal dust.

The costumes are always horrible, and does nothing to gain the favour of the crowd.

"But Portia and I think the whole coal-miner's outfit is very over-done. We want people to remember you, and therefore we will be focusing on the coal."

I frown, unsure of where this is going. I hope it won't be indecent though, Cinna seems surprisingly normal for a Capitol person, and I have some hopes.

"…and what do we do with coal?" Cinna asks, his eyes glinting slightly. "We burn it. I hope you're not afraid of fire Katniss?"

Gale and I stand by our chariot, surrounded by our prep teams. I'm sweating under the layers of costume, but for the first time I have hope.

We're dressed in what looks to be the deadliest costume of the night. We're in simple black tight fitting unitards that stretch from ankle to neck. Over that is an odd array of stiff black fabric which flows out at the sides, and over our shoulders is a scale like armour, tight leather calf-length boots are on my feet. What defines our outfit though, is the idea.

As the chariots roll out into the square, Cinna plans to light our costumes on fire with a bit of synthetic flame, and in the dim evening light, the effect is supposed to be amplified.

Our faces are relatively clear of makeup, only a bit of highlighting here and there. Gale looks almost the same as usual, only his hair has been tousled even more than usual, in an attempt to look windswept. I have to admit, he does look dashing.

My hair has been brushed back, and braided in my usual style.

As Cinna puts the final touches to our costume, he mutters dreamily, "I want people to recognize you… Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire."

It occurs to me that Cinna's mask of normality masks a raging madman.

Finally we are pronounced ready, and me and Gale mount our chariot. It is pulled by a team of four black horses, and it occurs to me that it might be fun if Cinna dressed them up and set them on fire too.

I give a slightly nervous laugh, and Gale shoots me a worried glance. "So, what do you think?" he asks.

"If it goes right?" I muse. "Then we'll be spectacular, and actually have a fighting chance. If it goes wrong…."

We both laugh.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask, I realize I haven't seen him since the train, and as our mentor shouldn't he be here too?

Gale seems about to answer, but a sudden blast of music stops him. Twenty foot doors open, and the first chariot- District 1 rolls out onto the streets.

I instinctively grab Gale's hand for support, and he clenches it tightly. I squeeze back just as hard, feeling his standing there, steady as a rock.

Then our chariot is rolling out, and I'm confused, because wasn't Cinna meant to light us on fire?

I'm about to whirl around, or do something stupid, when there's a crackling nose, and the horses in front of us seem to burst into flame.

It takes all my self-control not to scream, and when I realize what's happening, it takes even more self-control not to laugh.

Only seconds ago, I had been musing on whether or not Cinna should set the horses on fire, and right now they are.

As we inch out the doors, the flames on the horses' reins and bridles spread upwards, until they reach the chariot, and creep up our legs.

I look up, straight up, and I catch a glimpse of myself on the massive television in the city square.

We look magnificent.

The flames reach Gale first, and they spread up his torso, and down his arm, and from where our hands are linked, I too burst into flame.

The effect is a thousand times better than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. We look like we have just ridden through a wall of fire, trailing flames behind us and in the evening light, we are all that can be seen.

Through the flames though, I can see our faces clearly. We are utterly unrecognizable, yet totally identifiable.

From beside me, I see Gale begin to wave, a charming smile pasted on his face. I automatically copy him, wondering slightly what his is doing. He hates the Capitol, ten thousand times more than I do, and yet he is smiling and waving as though they are his long lost friends.

I catch sight of us again in the giant screen, and I realize what he is doing.

We're hunters, we do whatever it is we need to survive, even if it means smiling at our killers. It's instinct. So I smile, I wave, and I grip Gale's hand so tightly I think I stop the blood circulation in his hand. And after a while, it becomes natural. Smile, wave.

And they're buying it. They're screaming out our names, throwing roses at us and I feel a flare of hope.

Finally our chariots stop in the City square, where we remain while the President gives his speech. He's a small man, with snow white hair, and he goes on with his tradition speech, that stays the same every year. If we were back at home, Gale would have been sitting in front of the screen in the town square, mocking the words while I laughed along.

As it gets darker and darker, we are harder and harder to take their eyes off, and from the screen overhead, I can see the camera fixed on the two of us.

Finally he finishes, and our chariots parade around the square once more, before they file back into the training hall.

As soon as the doors close behind us, our suits flames snap off, leaving me and Gale slightly blinded. The prep team surround us, screaming congratulations and sounding incomprehensible to me. I don't hear a word of what they are saying, I just force my hand to unclench from Gale's and we both massage our fingers.

"Sorry." We both say at the same time, and then perhaps it's because we were both so nervous, or perhaps it's because we were so relieved, that we both cracked up laughing, clinging to each other as we howled.

For a rare moment we were back in the woods on a Saturday afternoon fishing, and eating berries, just laughing, and I can't help but feel glad that of all people it's Gale standing beside me, crying with laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Katniss. Plan? Or just an excuse?

"So clearly, apart from water, you need your weapons the most. I usually wouldn't be telling this to most tributes, but you seem like you have a chance to get there first. I don't suggest you throw yourself into the bloodbath, but you need a clear path in and out to get your weapons. There's only one way to do that."

Haymitch pauses, clearly out of breath for talking so long without a swig of alcohol. He quickly amends that by taking a long draught out of his hip-flask.

It's day one of Haymitch being our mentor, and although it's going better than I hoped, he really strains my patience. Me and Gale instantly chose to be coached together, at first it was for our survival during the games, but right now it feels more like we're just there to support each other and keep one another from going mad.

"How?" Gale asks. I'm just as confused. There's no way that the Careers or other Tributes will let us waltz in and waltz out with our weapons.

"You join the careers."

….what?

"What?" I finally manage.

"You heard me." Haymitch leans back, resting his feet on the table in front of him, and I have to fight the edge not to punch him.

"And even if we wanted to-"

"Oh you'd better want to."

"-you don't just _join_ the Careers, you have to get asked. How are we meant to get an invitation?"

"It's obvious. Shoot a few arrows sweetheart, kill some dummies, show them how great your skills are." Haymitch drawls, and I have to grab Gale's arm to stop him from lunging at Haymitch. The way he talks- it's like he's insulting our skills and at the same time saying he really doesn't give a damn about what happens to us.

"So. But what about the private audiences with the Gamemakers? Aren't we meant to save our secret skills for then?" I force my tone to be polite and curious, but Haymitch sees right through it, and smirks.

"In other cases, yes. But right now from what I've heard, you need supplies and that bow and arrows if you want to survive. I do recommend you leave _one_ mildly impressive useful skill for your private audience though, just something to give you an edge."

What I hate is that I can see his logic. Gale and I _need_ our weapons. I guess we could survive well enough without, but if we want to win… Or if we want to even have a _chance_ of winning, then we need our weapons, and we _need_ a way out of the bloodbath. The careers are the greatest danger, so without them trying to kill us, Gale and I should be guaranteed a way out. In the first few seconds of the games, the Careers wouldn't be likely to turn on each other yet.

So if we join… Gain their trust… Then if we reach our weapons first, they wouldn't attack us, we could just abandon the fight… Disappear…

We nod grudgingly, because as loathe as we are to admit it, he does know what he's talking about, and it does make sense.

I hate to say it, but if it works- Haymitch is pure genius.

What is the world coming to?

x^._.^x

After our quick conversation with Haymitch, me and Gale are led up to our living quarters near the training centre.

Effie takes us up in an elevator, and the experience is so exhilarating as the walls are glass and it gives you a 360 view I want to ask whether we can ride it again, and so I do.

It's nothing like the only other ride I've had in an elevator, at the Justice building crammed in with several other families, and Prim clutching onto my leg.

Gale gives me a smirk and a playful, "do you want me to get you a ball of yarn too?" comment, but he seems to enjoy the second elevator ride just as much as I do. If it was a normal holiday, a trip to an exotic location, I would have been glad that he was experiencing all of this with me.

Then again. We're not.

Once again, for almost the millionth time, the overwhelming pressure and horror of the situation closes in on me, and I have to struggle to breathe. _Damn_ the Capitol for placing this over our heads, and not only _our _heads, but over everyone that ever faced the Reaping, faced the games.

I shake my head, and concentrate.

Our quarters like everything else in the Capitol. Overdone and extravagant. By now, I'm almost done being amazed at the size and quality of everything. It's just a very elaborate prison cell.

We have our separate rooms, but maybe it's because neither of us wants to be alone right now, and also because in two weeks we're going to die and we might as well spend every last moment together that we both end up in my room.

We sit down on the silk sheets, and I sigh.

"Squirrel for your thoughts Catnip."

"Show me the squirrel."

He laughs.

"So, are we about to have another one of those deep meaningful- might-as-well-say-it-now-before-we-die conversations?" Gale asks, his face utterly serious.

I just shake my head at his idiocy. "We've got two weeks left." I muse. Two weeks.

"Yeah, we'd better start collecting nuts and berries for the winter." Gale pulls an impersonation of a chipmunk, and the mood lightens. Gale has always been able to pull me out of a bad mood.

"So. Our game plan." I start, because although Haymitch is acting like everything's all planned out, I still feel woefully unprepared.

"Okay! Cats and mice!" Gale jumps up, pulling me with him, and begins to twirl me around.

"Gale! What the…. What are you doing?" I exclaim, laughing, but also confused, what's he doing now?

"Our game plan! Remember? Cats and mice?" Gale pulls a childish grin which sits oddly on his eighteen-year-old face, but makes me think of puppy dogs and kittens.

Cats and mice was a game that Gale and I used to play in the woods, where Gale would spin me around until I couldn't see straight, then dart off through the woods carrying my bow and arrows, expecting me to chase him if I wanted them back. I never really understood whether he was the mouse, and I the cat, or the other way around.

"_Gale!_" But I'm laughing too, and suddenly I realize that even though our worst nightmare has come true, I'm still managing. I can still laugh. Because of Gale. "Seriously! We need to figure out what to do!"

The smile fades, and then it's Hunter Gale who faces me. "Alright, so which skills do you want to show off?"

His directness is abrupt even though I asked for it, and the question takes me by surprise.

I mentally list my useful 'skills' in my head, and the ones that will impress the Careers. I quickly decide. "I guess everything, I'll just leave out the bit where I can move through the woods like I'm not there. Shooting and knife throwing will probably be the most impressive to the careers."

Gale nods, musing. "Same for me then. I'll do hand-to-hand combat too, and save traps and snares for my Gamemaker audience."

I give him a quick grin, because it now seems like we have a plan. A chance.

I sit back down, and lean back on the silky sheets, and realize just how filthy I must be. I haven't showered since the Reaping, and although they did hose me down when my stylists were making me over, I still feel sticky and muggy. My suit is also quite heavy now that I think of it, and I am sweating.

"I'm going for a shower." I say, and quickly grab a few clothes from a side dresser in my room, and head for a set of doors that must lead to the bathroom.

I thought I was done being shocked.

After everything I had seen, and everything that had happened, a bathroom should be no big deal correct?

No.

The bathroom is huge, absolutely massive. There is a bath that looks bigger than the lake in the woods back home, and a shower that is the size of our house. The tiles glint from the lights overhead, and everything is sparkly and shining.

I strip, leaving my costume on the floor, and step into the shower.

There is an array of buttons on a metal panel in the side of the shower, and cautiously, I press one.

Ice cold water shoots down from above, and I yelp, my hand slamming down on around ten buttons at once, and I have to leap from side to side as lemony foam that hardens very quickly, steaming water, and bubbles that don't pop, blast in my direction from all around me.

Eventually I figure out what not to press, and after what seems like half an hour, I manage to take a fairly normal shower.

I step out of the box, my skin stinging and smelling heavenly, and a current of hot air blasts at me instantly drying my skin.

There's a device that when I put my hand on, a current passes through my scalp, drying and untangling my hair until it floats down onto my shoulders in a glossy curtain.

After exploring the rest of the wonders of the room, I dress and step out of the bathroom.

Gale is lounging on my bed, looking just as fresh as I. He must have gone back to his room for a shower too.

"Our dear chaperone Effie Trinket has politely extended the invitation to attend dinner with her and our stylist. Haymitch will also be attending. What shall I tell her?" Gale says, lifting his eyebrows comically.

His Capitol accent is so silly and over pronounced- he is practically drawling the words- I laugh again and reply in the same way. "Please tell Effie that I would be most delighted to attend and that I would also very much like my best-friend Gale back."

Gale drops the accent and jumps up. "He's back!"

I just shake my head, and exit the compartment.

x^._.^x

Haymitch is at the table. Sober for once, but as I can see his hand drifting to the bottle of spirits to the side I doubt that will last. Some things will never change. Ah well. At least he's helping us.

He and Effie argue, while Cinna and Portia (a woman with pink hair, but that's the only unnatural thing about her) debate about the effectiveness of our costumes. Gale and I just sit and eat quietly using the cutlery as little as possible. Maybe we're over doing it a bit, but too bad. I feel reckless.

I'm joking around, as I only can when Gale is around, when they carry in a huge twelve layered cake and set it on fire.

The flames only last for a second, but I blink dazed. "Is that some kind of spirit that makes it burn? Because that's the last thing that- Oh! I know you!"

Gale jumps as he sees who I am looking at, but then his emotions are carefully sealed up in a politely surprised façade.

My gaze returns to the girl. She's just a few years older than me, and I can't exactly remember where I know her from, but her red hair, pale skin, angled eyebrows…

Then the memory hits me, and it's all I can do to stop from leaping up. It's been years, but I know she remembers me.

Now though, her gaze is only frightened, and she quickly leaves through a side door.

Effie is the first to speak, disapproval clear in her voice. "Don't be stupid Katniss, how would you know an Avox?"

"What's an Avox?" I ask stupidly.

Effie shakes her head at me, but it is Cinna who replies. "An Avox is someone who has committed a crime, usually treason, it's not likely you'd know her."

Haymitch takes a swig of liquor. "…and even if you did, you shouldn't speak to them unless you're asking for them to do something."

I feel my head nodding, but the tension is still thick in the air.

It is Gale who saves me. "Delly Cartwright!" he exclaims, and I see the same expression on his face when he is in the hunt. Focused and in control. This is his area. "She is the absolute twin of Delly, honestly-"

I catch on, and continue, just to keep the illusion going. "Yes, it must be the hair,"

".. and the eyes and the way she walks too…"

We nod at each other, forcing smiles, as though we've both reached an agreement.

The table relaxes, and I have never been more grateful for Gale. Without him, my lies would have been as transparent as glass.

"Oh… If that's all, then yes, there were spirits on the cake, but they've all burnt off, just in honour of your fiery debut."

So we eat the cake, and then we go to the sitting room where we watch the replay of the parade.

None of the other Chariots are particularly eye-catching, apart from District One and Two, and I'm too buried in my thoughts about the Avox girl that I don't notice the camera has reached District Twelve's chariot until Effie squeals loud enough that the chandelier above us rattles.

On screen, we look even better than I could have imagined.

At first you can hardly see us at all, with our black costumes, black horses and black chariot, but then as the chariot moves down the streets, first the hooves of the horse burst into flame, the flames climbing up their harnesses, up to the chariot, where Gale then seems to catch on fire, the flames spreading down his arm and then to my hand and up my arm, like he is the one setting _me_ on fire. Our faces, illuminated by the firelight are stunning. Unforgettable.

Even Gale and I, doing our best to be unimpressed with everything- we can't hold back a sigh of admiration.

"Whose idea was the hand-holding?" asks Haymitch.

Me and Gale exchange glances. "It kind of just happened." He says eventually.

Haymitch gives us a speculative glance, then shrugs. "Well it was brilliant. Just the perfect touch of rebellion."

Rebellion?

It hadn't been what we had intended, but now that I thought about it, it was sort of true.

In all of the other chariots, the tributes had been standing stiffly on opposite ends of the chariot, as if they were trying to imagine they were alone.

Our symbol of… _unity_- I guess you could call it, set us apart from the other tributes, just as much as our flaming costumes did.

"Tomorrow is your first official training session with the other tributes-" Haymitch's voice breaks into my thoughts as Effie switches off the TV. "-meet me at breakfast, and then you'll go down to the training centre. Now go get some sleep."

It's an order, and while I bristle at it, I do want to talk to Gale alone.

~~~(o.O)~~~

As soon as we leave the room, I turn to Gale. "It's stuffy here. Do you think they let us go up to the roof?"

He understands immediately, years of us holding illegal conversations in broad daylight carefully coded, means that we understand even the barest twitch from each other.

"Sure, it is a bit hot. Follow me."

I follow, and we end up on the roof.

It's a kind of balcony, only a balcony the size of an average Capitol garden (which is pretty big) and I can instantly see all the lights of the surrounding Capitol skyscrapers, and buildings that gleam even without the sunlight.

There are even plants growing from odd square box things that are filled with soil.

I bend over one of them, pretending to examine the leaves, then from the corner of my mouth, I whisper to Gale. "It's the girl."

I know it's a stupid thing to say, and Gale already knew- he was there with me for goodness sake- but I needed to say it, to somehow confirm it.

"Yeah." He replies. "Do you think…"

"…that on that day three years ago when we saw her being captured by the Capitol we should have run out there and tried to save her? Quite honestly… Yes, we should have, but it would have been pointless, and we would have been caught too." I say the words far too loud to be safe, but Gale doesn't reprimand me. I need to vent after all.

"This is _wrong!_" bursts out Gale suddenly in a harsh whisper, slamming his palms flat against the top of the box that we're standing by.

He stands like that for a moment, leaning over, breathing heavily, his muscles knotting through the fabric of his shirt.

I know it's not the time- actually the worst time ever, but I can't help thinking about just how _muscular_ Gale is. He's not excessively bulked up like the boy from District 2, but he could give him a run for his money.

Finally he relaxes, and slumps down on the ground, pulling his knees to his chest in an oddly childlike gesture. I sit down beside him, perhaps a bit too close to be innocent- but it's cold, and I've done it plenty of times in the woods in winter.

So why does it feel so different now?

I try to ignore the feeling, and hope Gale is ignorant to it too, and watch the night sky.

It's the same here as it is at home, which is odd. All the stars are in the same place, the moon hangs where it usually does, and for a moment I can almost imagine we're back at District Twelve, District Twelve where it's a pathetic excuse for home, but home anyway, where I used to run through the streets being chased by my father and squealing with laughter, where I used to walk with Prim to school in the mornings like mother used to do- but was too locked inside her own head to now, and where I would trudge home with the day's catch heavy over my shoulder, Gale by my side, and my heart considerably lighter.

And then I wonder. The girl- the Avox girl, did she have a life like mine too? One that she longed for and missed?

I could remember the day Gale and I met her like it was yesterday.

We were in the woods as usual, and then suddenly the birdsong, which was a constant in the woods, cut off, and it became deathly silent. Then one called a warning, and as Gale and I ducked into the shelter of the trees, we saw them.

It was a boy and a girl, perhaps a year or so older than Gale, both running like their lives depended on it, and it did. Or at least for the boy.

They had rings around their eyes like they hadn't slept for days, or even rested at all. Their clothes were tattered and they kept on glancing over their shoulders.

Then the hovercraft had appeared, almost as if it had been there all along- it was so fast and silent.

They shot down a net, and it caught the girl, carrying her up so fast- perhaps even faster than the elevator we had taken earlier. The boy was speared straight through the chest with some kind of barbed hook, and we knew he was dead even as he was pulled up.

The girl screamed something once, the boy's name perhaps, and then she locked eyes with me. Not Gale, but me.

It was only for a second, but as she screamed again- this time for help, her eyes met mine, and I could see every emotion in her mind, all the fear, all the despair, all the pain… and the accusation at me as she vanished from sight.

It was the same girl as the Avox, it was undoubtable.

There was an _accusation _in her eyes.

She had no way of knowing that Gale and I had any way of saving her, she had no way of knowing that I could have run forwards and shot an arrow towards the top of the net severing the ropes meaning she could have fallen back to the ground and we could have helped her hide- she had no way of knowing that I could have done anything at all to help- but I knew that I could have, and right now, the guilt finally hits me.

As if sensing my emotions, Gale shuffles closer to me, and drapes an arm around my shoulders, hugging me closer to him.

I shiver, then lean into his embrace. It's not awkward now, it's just the two of us understanding what the other feels, and sharing the same comfort. It's not a comfort I deserve, but I relish in it all the same, trying to leave the guilt behind.

"It was my fault." I finally say, breaking the silence which has fallen over the roof-top.

I feel Gale shaking his head even before his voice reaches my ears. "Catnip, it's neither of our faults. If we had helped, like you said- we would have been caught, and we'd be Avox's too ourselves- or dead. "

I give a choked laugh. "Or dead? Gale, we're going to die in two weeks' time!"

"I'd sooner be dead now than then, or in that situation."

I twist around to look at him. "What do you mean?"

He sighs, and tilts his head back to look at the stars again. It's odd, right now I feel closer to Gale than ever, but also, for the first time, I feel like it's a complete stranger sitting there centimetres from me.

"If we'd died then Catnip, our families wouldn't have survived. If we had been caught, vanished that very afternoon, our families wouldn't have had the means to support themselves after we'd gone. Now… I can't imagine the situation is much better, but they've got a way to carry on now! Prim has her goat, your mother gets paid for her medicines and herbs… Rory will take my place hunting for the family, and my mother does the washing for other families… We didn't have any of that three years ago. And even if we hadn't died… If we had become Avox's like the girl…. Katniss I'd rather die than be forced into slavery like that- that's what it is! They cut out their tongues and force them to become slaves to the Capitol, serving the tributes who file in year after year to die… I'd sooner kill myself Katniss! Even being a tribute- even dying in the Games- I'd prefer it Katniss!" His voice is becoming louder and louder, and I'm worried someone will hear, but this is like his rants in the woods, all the feelings he can no longer keep hidden under the blank mask that he wears.

"At least in the Games you have the tiny chance of having a shred of dignity on your way out! You can _chose_ the way you die Katniss, and you get a chance…"

Gale suddenly breaks off, and only four weeks later do I finally realize what he means, but right now I just sit, staring at him.

I'd never put my thought into my death, I'd always been worried about Prim, or Gale, but hearing him talk about death… His death… and in a way- my death… I realize I agree.

I've never been good with words, and usually when I open my mouth I make things worse, so I do the only thing physically possible to convey my emotions to him, fling my arms around his torso, and hug him.

It's not like other hugs, and there have been many- hugs of greeting, hugs for comfort, hugs in the cold, hugs of farewell, hugs for good luck… But this hug seems to mean more in ways I can't comprehend, or at least- not yet. It is a hug for everything we'd been through together, and everything that we were going to, and in that moment as I buried my head in his chest, I realized that I hoped. For what I did not know, as even if we both survived there could only be one tribute… And it sounded like a sappy line from the romances that Prim loved to read at school, but I hoped. I hoped for Gale, I hoped for myself, I hoped for the Avox girl, and I hoped for every other soul under the Capitol's rule.

I did not know what for- but I hoped.


End file.
